“Let’s Blitzkrieg the mothers,” Ralph had said, nodding approvingly on hearing the plan. Yet again, the bank robber had nailed the codename for the operation.
The Tundra burst into the parking lot. Walter blew a sigh of relief to see that the western section of the Ring lay undefended. What had been originally designed as a defensive position would provide cover for the combined Eastwood and Benton forces to launch their attack.
He raced across the graveled lot, while behind him the rest of the assault team spread out to their designated positions. To his right, a truck carrying Mary’s QRF squad flew past him, heading toward the south side of the Ring. The plan was to command two fields of fire into the square, pinning Mason down and making it difficult for him to organize his defenses.
They arrived with seconds to spare. Coming up the main path from the square, a handful of Mason’s men jogged toward the parking lot, rifles in hand. Seeing the Bentons swarm the area, they slowed down, unsure whether to continue forward or not. Their indecision didn’t last long. From the back of the Tundra, Walter’s men opened fire and sent them running back toward the square.
He jerked the wheel of the Tundra and screeched to a halt parallel to the four-foot-high line of sandbags. His team spilled out of the truck and took up positions behind the Ring. Squatting behind the sandbags, they rested their rifles over the tops and began firing through the gaps between the cabins that faced into the square.
Walter grabbed his rifle and threw open his door. “Let’s go, kid!” he yelled. “Time to kick Mason’s ass!”
***
From behind a U-shaped defensive post outside what had been the YMCA’s infirmary, Mason watched with concern as his men ran back into the square in disarray. Minutes ago, he’d dispatched them with instructions to take up positions behind the sandbags lining the back of the parking lot. They’d arrived too late, and had been sent scurrying back with their tails between their legs.
As they jogged over to him, a fusillade of rifle fire opened up, this time from the south side of the square. The Bentons had opened up another line of attack. The vicious crossfire caught a couple of his men, one falling to the ground in a heap. The rest scattered around the square, racing to get into cover.
A short, ferocious firefight ensued. Mason’s men fought hard, but with no clear strategy on how to repel the Bentons, his crew were being run ragged, exposed to rifle fire anytime they poked their noses from out of cover.
“Boss, we need to move!” Doney shouted to him above the din. “They’re cutting us to pieces here!”
Mason thought hard. His best option was to pull back to the east side of the square and regroup. From there, he would lead a group of men and try to outflank the main Benton force at the parking lot.
He yelled out the order to retreat. Moments later, his men raced across the square as a hail of deadly metal whistled around them. Leading the way, Mason couldn’t help but think how, three nights ago, the shoe had been on the other foot when he and his men had pursued the Bentons in the opposite direction as they fled down to the lake shore.
Following right behind Mason was Doney. Since the fighting began, he had stood no more than three feet from him, shielding him as much as possible any time they broke from cover. As always, his bodyguard was loyal to the core.
Reaching the far end of the square, Mason ducked around the back of a stack of sandbags and threw himself to the ground. Moments later, the rest of his men took up similar positions and began firing back at the Bentons.
Mason pulled out his radio. “Curtis, Joey, where are you?” he yelled breathlessly into the tiny mouthpiece. A few minutes prior, he’d instructed his men posted along the forest perimeter to combine under Curtis and Joey’s command and return immediately. It was pointless them guarding it anymore. “Have you reached the lot yet, over?” His plan was for the two groups to attack the Bentons from behind while he cut through the forest and attacked their left flank.
He had to wait several seconds before Curtis answered. “We’re here, boss. What’s the plan, over?”
“Get ready to attack. I’ll head through the east forest and hit them from the side, over”
“Mason, you’ll never make it. They just sent a group in there. There’s at least eight of them!”
Mason cursed out loud. It seemed like every decision he took had been anticipated by the Bentons. “Hold your position. We’ll make it, one way or the other.” If Mason couldn’t repel the main Benton force, it was game over.
“Can’t do that. They’ve spotted us. We have to pull back.”
Over the radio, Mason heard the sharp crackle of gunfire in the background. “There’s plenty of forest to hide in,” he barked into the handset. “Move to another position and wait for me.”
“Sorry boss, can’t do that. The Bentons are swarming the place. We got to get out of here.”
Mason couldn’t believe his ears. Curtis was cutting out on him. There was no word from Joey either, and Mason guessed he had already split.
“Curtis!” he screamed into the mic. “Hold your position or I’ll strap you to a tree and cut your balls off when I find you, do you hear me?”
A hiss of static squelched back at him for reply.
“Chickenshit bastard!” Doney spat out, squatting beside him.
Mason peeked his head over the sandbags to see the Bentons flooding into the square, taking up the positions they’d just abandoned. At that moment, he knew the game was up.
CHAPTER 39
Vaulting over the line of sandbags that comprised the Ring, Walter’s squad raced across twenty yards of open ground, then down the footpaths between the cabins before pouring into the square. They spread out and took up positions behind the defensive posts Mason and his men had just vacated.
Running alongside Emma, Cody pointed to a large U-shaped stack of sandbags outside a cabin where a Red Cross sign hung above the door. The two sprinted over and ducked behind it to the sound of rifle fire crashing above their heads.
When he’d gotten out of the Tundra earlier, Cody had run around the back of the truck just as Emma clambered down off the tailgate. Since then, he hadn’t let her stray more than a few feet from him. While he dearly wished she was somewhere safer, he knew that if anyone was to blame for her insistence on fighting that day, it was him. Marcie, a trained nurse, was in Emma’s place with Greta at the medical trailer parked at Devil’s Point.
He rested the barrel of his Ruger SR across the top of the parapet and stared down the iron sights to where Mason and his men had taken up positions on the far side of the square.
From the southeast corner, a barrage of semi-automatic rifle fire opened up. Having moved stealthily east along the back of the cabins, Mary’s QRF squad had successfully established a flanking position on Mason’s left.
Cody grinned. So far, everything was going according to plan. Aided by the intel from Jonah Murphy, Granger and Walter knew the exact layout of the camp’s defenses. Right now, a team led by Ralph was traversing the east forest to come up behind Mason’s position. The net was quickly closing in on the bandit.
Caught once more between two interlocking fields of fire, Mason’s men quickly capitulated. Retreating from their positions, they ran down the narrow pathways between the cabins and headed east toward the river. Cody scanned the area, but saw no sign of Mason. Maybe he’d already left. Perhaps it was why his men had given up so easily.
He stood up. “Come on!” he yelled excitedly to Emma. Along with the rest of Walter’s squad, the two ran out from their positions and began firing at the fleeing group. Mason’s time was up. Cody was certain of it.
***
Moments before, Mason had come to the same conclusion. Only one option remained open to him. Crouched behind the sandbags while bullets thudded into them relentlessly with a hard thwaping sound, he yelled in Doney’s ear, “I’m going to fetch Tania. Then we head to the lake.”
On their first day at the camp, the two men had hidden a skiff
in a small cove along the north shore. It was loaded with emergency food and water, extra clothing, weapons, and ammunition. Enough for the three to survive for a week. It had simply been a practical precaution. Mason had never dreamed he would need to use it.
Doney nodded, a grim look of determination on his face. “Go, boss. I’ll be right behind you.”
Tapping him on the shoulder, Mason sprinted between two cabins and headed for the bridge that would take him to the field where his trailer was parked.
Two minutes later, flagging and out of breath, he stumbled across the wooden bridge with heavy footsteps. Reaching the far side, he looked back to see that Doney had left the square and was on his way too.
When he arrived at the field, he jogged over to his trailer, bellowing Tania’s name as he ran. The door opened and she tentatively poked her head out. “I hear shooting everywhere,” she said anxiously. “Is everything okay?”
“Come on. We got to go!” Mason shouted. “The Bentons have taken over the camp.”
Tania put a hand up to her mouth. “My God!” she gasped, then rushed down the steps. Mason grabbed her hand and the two raced around the back of the trailer in the direction of the north headland.
Seeing him retreat from the square, Mason’s men had soon followed suit. Abandoning their positions, they scattered in all directions. Some headed for the bridge, others into the stream below and up the other side. All shared one thing in common. Blind panic. Behind them, in full pursuit, the Bentons fired at them as they ran.
Ten yards from the edge of the forest and gasping for breath, Mason turned his head to check on Doney. Halfway across the field, his bodyguard moved awkwardly. Mason could tell he’d been shot. “Come on, Doney!” he yelled, gesturing to him urgently. “Keep going!”
A few seconds later, he and Tania reached the forest. Mason ducked around the back of a tree and pulled Tania in after him. Peering out, he saw Doney practically dragging himself across the field. Behind him, a group of Benton men had reached Mason’s trailer. Mason stepped out from behind the tree, raised his Heckler to his shoulder and fired at them in short, controlled bursts.
A lanky young man with shoulder-length hair and a woman around the same age both dropped to their knees. The man raised his rifle to his shoulder, took aim, and a single shot rang out. A hundred yards away, Doney’s two arms spread out wide as he fell face forward to the ground.
Behind the tree, Tania threw both hands to her face. “Doney!” she shrieked. “No!”
Doney remained motionless on the ground.
Mason gritted his teeth, then grabbed Tania by the arm. “Come on!” he yelled. “We got to get out of here!”
***
Cody lowered his rifle and stood to his feet. At the forest edge, Mason fled, pulling his girl along. A girl Cody didn’t much care for. It was the same petite blonde who’d stood beside Mason at the Chevron station in Knoxville two weeks ago.
Ahead of him, Ralph, Clete, and four Benton men ran across the field. When they reached the forest, they disappeared from view. A minute later, Ralph and Clete reemerged again. It appeared Mason had lost them in the woods. The Benton men hadn’t given up though. Given all that had transpired between the two groups, Cody wasn’t surprised.
Around the camp, the shooting petered out, then ended. What remained of Mason’s crew had either fled or surrendered. Many were wounded, and corpses littered the area. Walter and Granger’s plan had worked perfectly. They had taken back the camp.
The two ex-cons sauntered back across the field, their rifles slung over their shoulders.
“Nice shooting, kid. You dropped that dude stone-cold dead,” Clete said when they reached him, pointing back to where Mason’s companion lay, face first in the grass. He looked to either side of him, surveying the scene. “Well, that’s all for now, folks. Show’s over. That didn’t take long, did it?”
“Blitzkrieg, baby,” Emma replied, glancing at Ralph, a big smile on her face.
“Helluva name, helluva plan,” Cody said, grinning from ear to ear. He grabbed Emma by the arm and, walking lockstep, the four headed back toward the square.
CHAPTER 40
Mason crept through the trees with Tania in tow. The shooting had stopped, and he knew the battle for the camp was over. Behind him, he heard voices in the forest, calling out urgently to each other. He quickened his stride. He had to get off the headland right away or he was a dead man.
As he walked, his rifle held in his grip, he thought about Murph. Up until now, he’d had no time to process what had occurred at the checkpoint. Why had the Irishman betrayed him like that? It made no sense. One thing was for sure, Murph hadn’t gone crazy. His actions were part of a coordinated attack that had allowed the Bentons to break into the camp. Had Murph made some secret pact with them over the past few days? He shook his head in frustration, resigning himself to the fact that he would probably never know the Irishman’s motivation.
He spotted the blue waters of the lake through the trees, and put the thought out of his mind. Moments later, he reached the shoreline and poked his head out cautiously to get his bearings.
A hundred yards north, he spotted the crooked pine tree leaning out over the water at an angle and heaved a sigh of relief. It was the visual marker indicating where he and Doney had hidden the skiff around the next point.
He ducked back into the forest and gestured for Tania to follow him, and the two trekked north parallel to the shoreline.
A few minutes later, Mason located the skiff hidden under a large clump of bushes. “Hold this,” he whispered to Tania, handing her his rifle, then, stooping over, he grabbed the skiff by the bow rail and began dragging it toward the beach.
Though flat-bottomed and only ten feet long, laden with supplies and its twenty horsepower motor attached, the boat must have weighed over three hundred pounds. Without Doney to help, it was tough going dragging it along the forest floor, even for a huge man such as himself.
Finally he reached the edge of the forest. Pausing to catch his breath, he looked to either side of the tiny inlet to make sure nobody was around. He saw no one. From the south side of the point came the sound of distant voices. The Bentons were still combing the area, looking for him. So long as the outboard motor started right away, though, their chances of escape were good.
He bent over and grabbed the bow rail again when a familiar voice called out, “Yo, headerball. Where do yeh think yer going?”
Mason let go of the rail and jerked around to see Murph step out from behind a tree. Instinctively, he reached down to his Sig P226 by his waist.
“Forget it,” Murph warned him, pointing his Glock at Mason’s chest. “Or yer a dead man.”
“I’m a dead man anyway.” Nevertheless, Mason took his hand away from his holster. He stared at Murph. “How the hell did you find me? No one knew where this boat was other than Doney, and he’s dead.”
“A stroke of luck really. I saw you and Doney hide the boat here the other day. When yeh disappeared into the forest, I figured yeh were probably heading here.” Murph grinned. “Looks like I took the shortcut too. I’ve been waiting bleedin’ ages for yeh.”
“Mason, what’s going on?” Tania had been staring in amazement from one man to the other. With everything that had been happening, Mason hadn’t yet had a chance to tell her about Murph’s treachery. “We need to go. Whatever is going on between you two, save it till later.”
Mason shook his head. “He’s not on our side, Tania,” he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone. “He betrayed us and struck a deal with the Bentons. Killed everyone at the main checkpoint and let them into the camp.”
Tania’s mouth dropped even farther. “I-I don’t understand, Murph” she stuttered. “Mason treated you good. He had plans for you. Why would you do such a thing?”
Despite everything, it was the question burning most on Mason’s mind right now too.
“Pretty simple, really.” Murph took another step forward, watching
Mason warily. “See, I’m a Benton man through and through, only I got stranded here that night you took the camp. Gatto was just too dumb to figure it out. So were you, for that matter.”
Everything suddenly became clear to Mason. “It wasn’t Gatto who set me up yesterday, was it?” he said hoarsely. “It was you.”
Murph nodded. “Thought I was a goner too, when you pointed yer pistol at me through the seats. Doney looked like he was about to figure it out, only yeh shut him up.” He blew a mock sigh of relief. “Should have listened to him, Mason. He was onto me.”
Deep at the center of Mason’s brain, a violent storm started to brew. Murph had played him for a fool. How could he have been so stupid?
Murph glanced quickly over at Tania, still holding Mason’s rifle awkwardly in her grip. “Right, love, drop that rifle on the ground. No one’s going to hurt yeh, I promise. As for you, Mason, thumb and forefinger on the butt of yer pistol and ease it out of that holster. Just like they do in the movies.”
The rage in Mason’s head reached its peak. Waves of white heat shot across his frontal lobes, searing the backs of his eyeballs. He reached his hand down to his waist, staring at Tania intently as he did so, willing his intentions into her head.
She caught his gaze and a look of pure fear flashed across her face. Then she did the thing that Mason most needed her to do. Arms trembling, she raised the Heckler to her chest and swung the barrel over in Murph’s direction.
“No, Tania!” Murph yelled. At that same moment, Mason grabbed his Sig and pulled it free from its holster.
Two shots rang out in quick succession.
One of them, the .45 ACP round from Murph’s Glock, thudded into Mason’s chest, sending a shockwave throughout his entire body. Time slowed down, slower than he’d ever experienced before. He looked across at Tania to see a red mist spray out the side of her neck. The MR556 slipped from her grasp and tumbled to the ground in front of her.
On The Edge: Book Three in The No Direction Home Series Page 15
